Storyteller
by Chibi Haku
Summary: Edward is an unimportant slave, going by the name of 'cripple.' When the nobleman Roy Mustang takes an interest in him and takes him in, he discovers that Edward has a gift of story telling. But there's more to these stories then first appears. [RoyxEd]
1. Once Upon a Time

**Storyteller**

**Once upon a time...

* * *

**  
"RETREAT! RETREAT!" The announcement blared over the headquarters as Edward frantically ran into the flames. People were screaming, children crying for their parents, and men yelling in bloodcurdling shrieks before they fell silent suddenly. There was thick smoke everywhere, and Edward placed a handkerchief over his nose and mouth to filter the air getting into his lungs. He went into a brief spasm of coughing, batting uselessly at the air in front of his face to clear it.

"Flame!" he cried, plunging further into the burning compound. A beam fell nearby and he shuddered. "Alphonse? Where are you two?" he could barely see a foot in front of his face, and he knew his voice wouldn't carry that far. If it got any more unstable in here he would have to leave to keep the lineage safe.

Fuck the lineage. Al and Flame were everything to him.

"Brother!" He heard a soft, feminine voice cry and his heart leapt. "Over here, brother!" There was a note of panic to his younger sibling's voice, and Edward made towards it, blinking back the smoke from his stinging eyes.

The earth rolled beneath him as another explosion somewhere in the building rocked its foundations. He stumbled and nearly fell; staggering upright with the support of a warm bar of metal He wrenched his hand back from it and growled. The flames were getting far too close. He had to find Flame and Al soon. Somewhere nearby an agonised scream ripped out from one of the female soldier's throat. Edward tripped over a stray piece of wood, straightened and squinted through the smoke.

"Al?" He called again, looking towards where he thought he had heard his brother's voice originate.

"Over here, Brother!" Came the reply and Edward started forward again. "And hurry! Flame isn't moving!" There was a stab at Edward's heart and he all but ran through the smoke, nearly tripping over his younger brother. He fell to his knees immediately, beside a dark haired, pale skinned man. His leader, Flame.

"Fuck!" He said simply, running his hands over the man's face. Flame's high cheekbones were clammy, and his hair was soaked in sweat. Tracing the man's upper lip with his fingers, Edward felt breath coming from the man and glared.

"Don't swear!" Said Al. the boy was kneeling next to him. Edward shot him a dark look, then went back to checking the older man for damage.

"Don't tell your older brother what to do." He said distractedly.

He brushed a few locks of hair out of Flame's closed eyes, before checking around him for anything that could endanger their leader. He then placed his handkerchief over the man's nose and mouth, coughing when the unfiltered air hit his lungs. Al offered him his own cloth covering then, but Edward shook his head.

He nudged the man. "Flame." He hissed, pushing harder at his leader's shoulder. "Goddamnit Roy, you're still breathing so I'm not giving you CPR."

There was a weak chuckle, and the man's eyes slowly opened, revealing unfathomably deep blue depths. "And here I was hopeful." Relief flooded Edward's system, nearly enough to override the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He smiled softly before leaning down to press a kiss to the man's forehead.

"Dickhead." He said fondly, moving his hand to rest upon the man's shoulder. His smile was returned and both Flame and Edward ignored the horrified look Al gave Edward for swearing. Edward frowned. "Come on then, you're awake, let's go."

Roy shook his head. "I can't, Fullmetal."

"And why the hell not? In case you haven't noticed, the building is falling down around us here."

"He's broken his leg, brother." Alphonse supplied. Edward looked down at the man's leg in that moment and noticed that yes, it was bent at an impossible angle.

He frowned thoughtfully. "Well between us we should be able to carry him out of here." Another boom and earth shaking roll covered the end of his speech. Alphonse winced in fear.

Flame shook his head. "You'll never make it if you try and drag me along too. You two must leave and protect the lineage. Leave me behind." He glared at them both. "You are not putting yourselves in jeopardy for my sake again."

Edward bared his teeth at the man. "I'm not leaving you behind." He said matter-of-factly. "You're coming with us, Mustang, and that's my final say on the matter." That said he hoisted Mustang's torso up, ignoring the protests he received. He lifted the man as gently as he possibly could, apologising softly when Mustang winced. Alphonse hoisted the man's other side up, however even together they were too small to prevent Mustang's injured leg from scraping along the ground as they tried to move. The man gave an agonised yell and they placed him down again.

"This is no good, Brother." Al said sadly. "He's too heavy and we're too small."

Above the smoke and orange flames, Edward saw a brilliant shade of scarlet flash before his eyes. "WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL THEY CAN'T HOIST A THIMBLE OVER THEIR HEADS?" He screamed, raising his fists and glaring at his brother.

"Nobody said that much, Fullmetal." Flame replied as he rested his hand on Fullmetal's outstretched arm in a placating manner. Not one to admit the gesture had the desired effect; Edward knelt down by the man once more, hand whisking out to wipe sweat off his brow. "Leave here, you two. I cannot be helped. And you must protect the legacy." Flame said quietly.

Edward frowned. "Al, go. I'll catch up."

Alphonse looked like he wanted to protest, but the desperate look on his brother's face stopped him. He nodded, reaching out briefly to touch the side of his brother's face before turning and scampering away to the closest exit to their position. Satisfied that his brother would be safe, Edward turned back to the man on the ground.

"I'm not leaving you." He said simply.

"Edward, don't be foolish, go!"

"I'm not _leaving_ you, damnit!" He repeated forcefully, moving to lie draped over the man and ignoring the fact that Flame was pointedly trying to push him up and away. He rested his head upon the man's shoulder. "I love you."

Flame's breath hitched and one of his hands found its way to Edward's braid, playing with it absently. A strange calm settled over them both. "That's the first time you've said that." He said in a near whisper.

"I know." Edward nuzzled the man's shoulder slightly. "I love you, Roy Mustang. I love you and I'm not leaving you. We've sinned together."

Flame's eyes slid shut and a contented smile flitted through the pain on his features. "We'll face our sin together." The man replied as the walls around them started to crumble.

* * *

"Cripple! Cripple, wake up!" Edward Elric woke to a wet rag being slapped across his face rather unceremoniously. While seemingly cruel, this seemed the only way to be able to wake the man up in the mornings without him trying to kill things, so Edward allowed it. 

"Whattimeizzit?" The boy asked, blinking slowly and blearily around at the straw flooring of the slave quarters. He struggled up; a tanned hand came immediately around to help him, and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with his one remaining hand. He shook out his hair, the filthy mane might once have been gold, but now was a sickly brown-grey colour from the dirt and dust and lack of showers a slave's life had. It was a dirty, greasy mess, much like the rest of him, and he tried to straighten it out and failed miserably.

A bowl of water was presented to him and he took a long drink before simply holding it and looking into its reflective surface. At least his eyes were still golden, he thought as he placed the bowl down and made a blind grab for his crutch. That too found its way to his hand and he staggered upright with it, before balancing precariously on one foot while he shovelled a small stale roll hungrily into his mouth.

A feminine face invaded his vision. "Time to collect the eggs!" It proclaimed in a soft voice. Rose was bending down to look up at him, her eyes set in a sparling smile from behind a pink fringe. It stood out in stark contrast in comparison to the rest of her long black hair and tanned skin. Her voice was fond and she held him up while he ate.

He scratched at his left leg stump; it was tingling today for some reason. Sighing, he shifted his weight from her to his crutch. He reached out pointedly, and Rose placed an old wicker-handled basket on his arm. Swinging forward resolutely, Edward began his daily limp down the hill from the slave quarters of Ellisbury farm to the hen coop. Ellisbury was a relatively new establishment, only two years old in fact, and as such the property was sweeping and vastly empty and the produce unestablished yet. Edward had been on the farm since the beginning of its life, and his life as a slave.

He scowled as he reached out to open the hen coop door. Legacy, his ass.

Once the door was opened, he swung his way into the pen and towards the first laying box, shooing any hen that tried to get under his feet, looking for scraps. "Why are you asking me?" He glared at them. "You lot of fuckers eat better than I do here." The chickens clucked softly as he avoided stepping in their leavings. There was a brown dappled chicken sitting in the box when he peered into it, and he shooed her away exasperatedly, reaching in.

Pulling out the eggs one by one, he held each to his ear and shook it slightly first before putting it into his basket. Upon extracting an extremely large egg, he winced in sympathy for the chicken who had laid it, turning to the most likely culprit. "Another goose egg, Becca." He said, waving it at the bird. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you were swapping with the ladies down at the lake."

In response, the chicken clucked almost indignantly before scurrying off to the other side of the pen. Edward laughed slightly, before turning back to what he was doing. "Well fuck you too you stupid bird." He moved towards the next laying box and he heard a hen behind him leap straight up into the one he'd just abandoned. The rooster in the corner screeched at him and he regarded it with a look of disdain. "I'm sure you'd taste good. Shut up."

"And you'd get into trouble if you did eat him." A voice said behind him and he grinned as he heard the coop door close. He shouldn't have left it open, but it would have been much too much fun to watch the able bodied slaves running around and trying to catch the hens if any had of escaped. "That rooster keeps the boss hen laying and you know it."

Edward leant on his crutch and turned to face the girl with a confident smile. "Hey Rose. Going to waste all the master's scraps on the birds again or can I have some today?" He reflected that two years ago he wouldn't have even thought to ask, but hunger changes a lot of your expectations.

"The birds, Cripple. The birds." She said, though there was an edge of regret to her voice and the way she handled unceremoniously dumping the bucket of scraps in the hen feeder. She placed the bucket down and laid her hand on his shoulder. "You must have been able to eat really well before you came here."

Edward nodded, shaking his shoulder to dislodge her. She grinned and gripped harder, ignoring the glare he sent her way and the way his shakes doubled. Eventually she let go and moved to the opposite end of the coop, gathering eggs in the pocket of an old, dirty apron she wore. Studying one, and bringing it over for him to check the freshness she asked him, "Why were you so late in rising this morning, my dear Cripple? I had to milk the cows all by my lonesome." She handed him the egg.

He held it to his ear and shook it experimentally. As he expected it made a whisper of a sloshing noise and he sighed, throwing it over his shoulder. It hit a beam and split open, the rotting contents making a disgusting smell float through the air. "I had the dream again." He said simply, taking eggs from her one by one and checking them. She watched him carefully and shook her head.

"One day you're going to tell me how you do that." She said as he threw another rotten egg over his shoulder. This one struck a hen and it clucked in surprised fear before taking off in a short hop and felling to the other side of the room.

He shrugged at her and said nothing.

Resting a hand on her knee and squatting, she looked up at him. "As for the dream, put it out of your mind. Put your memories out of it too, Cripple. There's nothing of a slave's life to be learned from your past or your dreams." She smiled at him, red eyes crinkling warmly. "You owe me one. If I hadn't found you when I did, you would have been whipped."

The door of the hen coop chose that moment to open, and both looked around to see who it was. Rose fell to her knees in a bow and Edward ducked his head. He hid his bared teeth as best he could and stared at the ground resolutely.

Biting his tongue against a curse, he remorsefully said "Master." Along with Rose.

"Continue." A voice he both loathed and feared told him and they followed the cold order immediately. Edward picked up an egg that had rolled out of Rose's apron and placed it in his basket before hunting for the eggs that the chickens hadn't laid in their boxes.

"Tow of the slaves the government granted me." His master's voice said, obviously to someone else just entering the coop. "Hard workers, both of them. It is a shame that the boy is incapacitated. He would have made a good rustler." There was a noise of bored assent, and Edward had to shake off a moment of Deja-vuu. He placed his hand down and scooped up an egg.

"It is a real pity. Without his limbs he isn't good for much at all. Just doing mediocre female chores." Their master said. Edward bristled dangerously, and Rose grabbed the back of his tunic in precaution.

"I'm not a girl." He hissed at her and she shrugged, handing him an egg.

"That girl there though." Their master said and Edward frowned. "She is highly skilled and very useful. If not for her colour I would almost make her a paid maid. Rose they told us she was called. No one knew the boy's name so we call him cripple."

The visitor chose that moment to speak. "What happened to his arm and his leg?" Edward's heart stopped and logdged itself firmly in his throat. He choked and slipped off his crutch, falling to his knee as his leg gave way.

"Cripple?" Rose asked. They were being ignored by their master in favour of the man prattling on about the hen coop. "What's wrong?"

"Mustang." Edward said, a touch too loud. His voice was choked and he was aware that his master's attention was now firmly on him. He spun his upper body angrily and glared. "Roy _Fucking_ Mustang." He spat the name out as a curse and staggered to his feet. Rose shushed him desperately and tried to hold him back, but Edward was too angry to even notice. "You TRAITOR. You FUCKING TRAITOR!" He screamed and the damage was done.

His master backhanded him fiercely across the face and he overbalanced, falling with a thud into a pile of chicken leavings. His crutch spun away from him and he reached out to grab it. His master was faster, bringing the wooden stick up and bringing it down hard along Edward's spine. Edward grit his teeth against the yell that threatened to break from him. Tears of humiliation made themselves known at the corner of his eyes and he fought them back. He glared at the black haired noble with the gleaming black eyes.

_Why aren't you stopping this?_

"You, slave, have no right to speak to a nobleman in such a manner." His master said, bringing the crutch down once more. With a resounding crack, it snapped in half. "That is, of course, unless you have a death wish."

_Noble? Then you really _did_ sell us out._

"Turn over, boy." Mustang said, and Edward complied, still caught in the trap of doing whatever the man told him. He glared at the face above him, the high cheekbones and slender nose so familiar. Even the scowl present was sickeningly similar to what he dreamt about.

"Look me in the eye." He slowly raised his eyes up to meet Mustangs. They were still unfathomable depths, but they were eerily cold, regarding him only as a mild curiosity to toy with, not as anything important. He stared at the way light didn't seem to reflect off their surface, and how blue bled into the black of his pupil so well it was nearly impossible to tell where one colour ended and the other began. There was a moment of confusion flickering in those depths before it was gone, replaced with that irksome cold calm. Edward growled angrily. "What is your name?" Mustang asked him and Edward swallowed.

"Mustang do you really believe that to be necessary?" Edward's master asked incredulously and the man in question smirked.

"He is familiar to me and I do not know why." The hot anger burned stronger through Edward's skin. How dare that man forget him! "Slave, answer."

"Edward Elric, sir. Fullmetal." There was a gasp of surprise from Rose and his master. Of course they wouldn't assume that the cripple on their farm was a famous member of the crushed alchemist resistance movement of two years ago.

There was a pause in which nothing was said, and Edward staggered to his feet. "Such is the fate of a blasphemer." Mustang breathed. Edward looked down his nose at the man, a feat to preform when he was a head shorter than the one in front of him. Mustang smirked and turned to Edward's master. "I'll buy him from you."

"Mustang, he is a wanted criminal! He should be killed!" Edward's master informed the man.

"If he was not killed, instead given slavery as punishment, it is not your place to decide what he should receive for past crimes. He is a slave now, no more and no less. And I wish to buy him." Mustang replied. "Will fifty pieces of gold be enough?"

Even Edward gaped at the amount.

* * *

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A/n: w00t! Slavefic! _

_Just kidding. XD But yes. Ahem. New fic from me. This is my 'secret project' I've been talking about for a few months now. It's going to be sort of a "One thousand and one nights" tale where Edward will become a storyteller of sorts. _

_It differs greatly from that legend though, as you will discover, and the stories hold a great deal of importance. Hopefully I can get you all as hooked to this as you seem to be with AWWA. XD_

_Leave a review? -shakes her little can- _


	2. Twice upon the truth

As Rose and Edward headed up to the carriage, there was a dark silence, broken only by the clucking of hens and the quiet whinny of a faraway horse. Rose supported most of the boy's weight as she helped him stand and become balanced, aware of the eyes of two nobles and countless slaves who'd come out to watch the departure of one of their own. She slung his good arm over her shoulder as she helped him down the winding pathway, feeling his trembling rage wherever their skin touched through the rags they were both in. She found herself fearful of the boy for the first time she could remember, for everyone knew the stories of the famous Fullmetal Alchemist, the terror who struck and left society in ruins in his wake. It didn't take much to exaggerate that kind of tale, nor to dampen the ferocity of the actions it contained. The legendary Fullmetal of two years ago was one of the greatest heretics the world had seen, and he was currently slung about her shoulders, trembling with barely controlled fury.

She wondered why the alchemist hadn't used his craft at all during the past two years. It couldn't have been to hide, because his personality didn't allow to that. She also highly doubted that he had converted to the right path; Alchemy was the ultimate blasphemy towards God, the ultimate witchcraft. One didn't abandon one extreme for the other, as much as the church hoped the heretics might. Rose had often heard mothers tell their daughters about the sinners in God, and how none of them ever changed their beliefs. She had heard stories about the man in her arms, how with a single clap he could level villages and destroy lives. Here he was, however, with just one arm and no ability to clap. Did that make him harmless? Or simply less dangerous?

"Put him in Lord Mustang's wagon." Rose's master instructed her, breaking the silence that had settled uneasily on the gathered crowd. Rose trembled slightly under his blank and unfeeling stare, shifting to do as she was told. As slowly as she dared, she helped him up into the wagon, waist height and difficult to get into at the best of times. Cripple (As she still thought of the man as much as she tried not to) struggled to slide up onto the floorboards as she followed him up. She took him to the side of the wagon furthest away from the opening so that he would not fall out and sat him down on a slightly rotten bale of hay. His eyes met hers; he glared ferociously and turned his head away.

It felt strange, she noted, that she could so easily loose someone who had become a little brother to her in the last two years on the farm. "What do I do now?" She asked him quietly, kneeling and resting a hand on his shoulder, "Without you to help me in my daily chores?"

"Selfish." The young man snapped in a style true to him and him alone. She reflected that only he could make a viper's remark seem fond. His eyes softened as he reached up to remove her hand. "You do what you do every day, Rose. What we all do every day." He snorted and she stood, looking down at him like he was a wild bird who flew away every time she came close enough to touch him. "My leaving here changes nothing for the people of this farm. You'll get a new friend to help you." He pointed it out with a complete lack of feeling and Rose caught herself wondering if the boy had even cared for any of them in his time at the farm.

She didn't think she could explain to him that his leaving changed a lot of things for her, showed her how easily the foundations of a slave's life could be rocked by greedy nobles. She couldn't explain that she would miss his moody disposition and his cynical outlook, nor his snarky, insulting sense of humour. She stepped away from him, and turned her head before she started crying. She daintily leapt down from the wagon, bowing politely to Edward's new master as he entered his own carriage before joining the dissipating crowd to return to her daily tasks.

She missed the tight scowl and the way Edward turned his head to the side to hide the loneliness in his eyes as the horses snorted and whinnied, and with the clicking of hooves, the young man left her life.

* * *

"Fucking girls" Edward cursed, and this time no one tried to stop him. "Can't even say goodbye properly." He glares at the farm that he was glad was out of his life for good, and couldn't help but wonder what would become of the people there. "Suppose it doesn't matter." He muttered to himself, "It's not like I'm going to see any of them again. If Rose has other ideas about that she's mistaken." He scowled darkly, he had made too many connections at that farm, put his faith in too many people. He thought he had learnt not to get attached.

Apparently not. "Stupid Mustang, somehow I know this is all his fault." He said, and then remembered that what he said was true and continued muttering to himself about traitorous bastards and how they probably got off on seeing his discomfort.

"Oi. Monologue!" One of Mustang's other slaves snapped from the other side of the wagon, "Pipe down over there!"

Edward twitched slightly where he sat. Glaring at the person who had spoken (A farmhand of nondescript stature, brown hair, brown eyes, totally unremarkable) he settled back on the bale of hay and let the new nickname become part of the identity he would fashion for himself among these people. If they thought him a bit slow, damaged in the head, they would be more likely to talk around him and not fear for being overheard. There would also be fewer questions that way and Edward hated questions, unless he was the one with them. He snorted "One of mine which is, why is Mustang a noble now anyway?"

"Dude with the missing leg, I said shut it!" Non-stature repeated, and Edward ducked the stone thrown his way with barely a second thought.

Ducking his head, he discreetly surveyed his surroundings. There were about four other slaves in the wagon, a wagon which smelt like cow piss and decomposed stock feed, all of which were talking quietly closer to the wagon's opening than to him. One of the other slaves was obviously pregnant, her swollen belly straining at the threadbare cotton frock she wore. She had a habit of rubbing her stomach as she talked, as if her speech or the rocking of the wagon could cause her to give birth at any moment. Edward snorted, she was still at least two weeks off giving birth, but he wouldn't tell her that. The wagon was piles with bales of hay of varying degrees of freshness. Some, like the one Edward was sitting on were still of a relative quality, while others were so degraded that even the string around them had started to rot. A strand of loose straw blew into his face and he scowled, swiping at it as if it had attacked him.

He lifted his head to peer over the low railing behind him, over the horse's back (It was a runty animal, Edward reflected, getting on in years and wearying unexpectedly quickly.) Ahead of the old animal, there was a black carriage in which Mustang was hiding. It was elegantly fashioned, with real glass for windows and black velvet curtains hung inside them. They were drawn, so Edward could not see the man the carriage contained, but he scowled horribly at them anyway feeling some of the anger in his gut abate at just that small action. It was unlike Mustang to hide, but then, two years ago he would have thought betrayal impossible for the man too. He frowned, after all those years did he really know that little about the black haired man?

"Oi, Kid!" One of the other slaves said, Edward ignored him with a flair he had taken years to perfect. "Kid! What you looking at?" The man said in broken English. "I talking to you!" The front of Edward's shirt was grabbed and he found himself hoisted up in the air slightly. Scowling in distaste, he turned his attention to the stocky, heavily built man hoisting him up. The man was pock-marked with teeth varying in shade of yellow through black and his breath smelt worse than the wagon did. He caught the man's gaze and held it, idly wondering how long it would take before the man backed down.

The man scowled, hoisting him up further. "Kid, when I ask, you listen. You no pussy around, pretend that you no hear me. You answer, understand?" Edward was sorely tempted to make a comment on the way the man spoke, but held his tongue. He blinked calmly, waiting for the man to grow tired of the situation and put him down. "I ask you if you understand, shortass?"

The man didn't really have any warning, Edward thought after the fact. One moment, the calm, glassy eyed boy in his arms was staring at him blankly, the next he found a fist buried in his gut, the boy's eyes no longer glassy, but as clear and cold as a bird of preys. A twitch developed above Edward's eye as annoyance washed through him. The man let him go and he slumped back onto the bale of hay with an undignified flop. Shoving the winded man away with his foot, Edward looked over the other slaves with distaste.

He sighed. "If any of you want to get along with me, I have a few ground rules." He said waspishly, leaning back. "One, I am not short like am amt to be squashed underfoot." He glared at them to make the meaning of this sentence very clear. The pregnant woman nodded ruefully and he gave a cold smirk before continuing. "Two, the less you know about me the better seeing as I don't plan on staying here very long. Three, touch me again," He looked at the man by his foot who now couldn't meet his gaze, "And I will not hesitate to kill you." He frowned at them all. "No matter what you've heard or think you know about me, I am not a nice person. I haven't been a nice person for the last two years, and if you want someone to blame for that, may I direct you to the man in the carriage ahead of us?"

There was silence in the wagon. Edward went back to looking over the old horse's back.

* * *

The carriage rolled to a stop and Mustang sighed. The familiar velvety darkness that he had learnt to surround himself in did nothing to alleviate the dark mood that had been plaguing him ever since he had first met the young crippled man in the henhouse on Ellisbury Farm. Michael, the farm's owner (A good man, for all he gossiped and rumour mongered) had attempted to convince him again and again to rethink his purchase of the boy. After the seventh time Mustang had flatly refused the man had finally given up saying that it was on the lord's head what would happen to him now. Mustang agreed, for he wasn't sure why he'd purchased the boy for all of his insistence. Edward... the cripple had said his name was. Edward was an enigma in Mustang's thoughts, an overwhelming feeling of familiarity surrounded him along with a dark and bitter air that Mustang thought he should recognise but didn't.

The boy was a heretic, an alchemist, so it was understandable that he should know Mustang's name, but to recognise the man by voice alone when Mustang had never met him before in his life was something that worried him. The boy had called him a traitor, which didn't make sense. What could Mustang have been a traitor to? Certainly not the crown or the state, and never the church. There wasn't much left that the man could betray, was there? He shook his head and gave a wry smile. He shouldn't be concerned with the thought processes of a crippled slave who had something slightly wrong in his head. But the hate in the cripple's eyes when he had called Mustang a traitor had hurt the man deeply. Mustang merely wanted to know why. Surely there was no harm or blasphemy in that?

Roy stepped out of the carriage daintily, instantly becoming aware of the burn of golden eyes on his back. Shivering under the coldness of the glare, he strode forward with a displeased frown firmly affixed to his features. He didn't even bother to look around at the scenery, he knew where they were, but noticed the instant the young slave found it fit to wonder where they were.

"You're fucking kidding me." The slave said flatly. Mustang smirked at the reaction but otherwise showed no outward sign to demonstrate his registry of the young man's complaint. He noted with some amusement that the other slaves appeared wary of Edward, standing as far back as possible without falling out of the wagon. Indeed, Susan, the pregnant woman looked almost like she would miscarriage she was that afraid. Elric had obviously already made his mark on these people. Mustang's smirk grew satisfied, the boy was fast.

He stepped past the carriage, saying as he went, "Elric, come with me." Then as an afterthought he added, "No one on that wagon is allowed to help him." He heard the noise of outrage the boy admitted but deemed it necessary to gauge just what the boy was capable of on his own. Mustang needed to know for his own safety and the safety of his household what the heretic was capable of.

Mustang continued walking down the road to the old police station, listening to Edward stagger along behind him. At one pint, a dull thump indicated the boy had fallen, Mustang didn't turn around.

The doors of the station swung open, Hughes walking down them as expected. Green eyes glinting behind glasses, the man grinned at Mustang and asked him, "Where's this slave I have to check out for you?" As if it were all prearranged.

Which, Mustang reminded himself it was. Making a vague gesture behind him, he stood next to the black haired, green eyed man and turned to look at the slave now staggering to his singular foot. The boy's face turned upwards, and he and Hughes locked eyes.

It would have been comical if it hadn't of taken Mustang by surprise. Perfectly in sync, both Hughes and Elric demanded "YOU!"

* * *

.

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_A/n: Weak chapter ending, I'm sorry. I'm just so. Very. Tired. After pumping both this and AWWA out together, I think I need a nice long nap. I swear the next chapter is interesting. It has a story in it too? -bribe. bribebribebribe-  
_

_Please leave a review? -Rattles her tin can-_


	3. Thrice upon the Dreamer

Blind fury overtook Edward and without even pausing to think, he dropped to the ground, placed his finger to the dirt and found that the Seal of Solomon still flowed freely from his fingers as if it was water from a tap, even two years since he'd last used it. He was on the last triangle, anticipating the crackle of alchemic response and the pull of the flow of power when he heard the click of a safety on a gun. He looked up and saw the small pistol that was trained on him.

"Don't make me shoot, Edward." Hughes said with honest regret in his voice, "I like you too much to waste the bullet." Edward glared at the man for a moment, his fingers still on the seal, before he swiped through it with disgust, leaving it useless to him. He bared his teeth and kept his hand on the ground, though now it was to keep him balanced on his one leg and arm. "Thank you." Hughes said, sounding genuinely relieved.

Edward glared at him a moment longer, before looking away in disgust and trying his hardest to stand. The safety latch was re-clicked on the gun, and Hughes offered his hand, but Edward ignored it, struggling to his foot as best he could. "Don't thank me." He said, "I didn't stop for you. I'd gladly kill you both, but I know when the odds are against me."

Hughes openly laughed; reaching out to help balance him, even thought Edward tried to push him away. He slung Edward's remaining arm over his shoulder and finally looked over at Mustang as if asking permission. The other man just looked a bit bemused. "I suppose that means I've found something faster than your alchemy?" Hughes asked.

"My alchemy?" Edward snorted. "Don't make me laugh. Normal alchemy, yes. Mine, no."

Mustang's brain had finally caught up with the conversation, it seemed. He looked very disgusted when he finally had full realisation of what was actually going on. "What in blazes?" He demanded, looking between Hughes and Edward with a sour look on his face, "Hughes, why are you helping a heathen who just tried to kill you with black magic?"

Hughes actually shrugged at Mustang, smiling brightly. "He wouldn't have killed us, it's against the code."

"Beside the point." Edward piped in with a vindictive smirk.

Hughes sighed and lightly slapped him over the head. "I've dealt with Fullmetal before." He said, sending a placating smile at Mustang. Edward glared at him, and tried his best to elbow him with his one arm which was still slung about the man's shoulders. Edward settled for glaring, which had absolutely no effect, and imagining brutal ways in which to kill Hughes and dispose of the body. While this made him feel better, he highly doubted that a pack of ravenous killer whales would be in a lake this far inland. "The trick," Hughes said, "Is to stack the odds against him. Edward won't fight a loosing battle." He looked knowingly at Mustang; Edward followed his gaze and found that the man had that look on his face, the one which said he was storing information. Edward bit the inside of his mouth, and fought back the wave of nostalgia threatening to overcome him, reminding himself that this man and the man he knew were entirely different and that he hated them both.

"Well." Said Hughes, finally, "Let's get this change in ownership dealt with." Edward glared at Hughes who insisted on helping him make his way up into the police station, Mustang slightly ahead of them both. He looked down, and noticed for the first time, Hughes' other hand, which had been making signs at him the whole time. _Yo, Ed! _ He read, the symbols quickly flicking through, and changing when Edward made a startled sound.

The symbols were something Edward and his younger brother had invented years ago, to be able to talk and have no one else listen in. Edward had taught them to very few people, though Hughes was on the list. Edward didn't really think the man would ever use them again after what had happened. Mustang looked back, and immediately the hand went back to Edward's chest, acting as a 'support'. With an impatient huff, the man ahead turned away once more and went through the doors into the police station. Edward and Hughes continued the awkward three legged hop they had going as they approached the station themselves. Edward returned his focus to the hand. _It's been a while._ He read.

Edward had to hide his surprise, tensing slightly as he looked at the hand, and pausing in his step just enough that they nearly toppled over. Regaining his sense, he whispered just loud enough for Hughes to hear him, "Ally?"

Hughes' nod was a small one, one Edward felt rather than saw. The man began to help him up the stairs, one by agonising one, but this time, Edward let him. Edward Elric didn't fight. If someone from the trailer behind them had looked over at that point in time, they would have seen that the scowling, angry boy did have a truly beautiful smile.

But of course, no one was looking, so Edward's reputation stayed in tact for another day.

* * *

It was a staring contest. That was the only way to describe it, Edward's defiant glare had locked onto Mustang's superior one and neither of them was going to look away without a fight. They were seated on a bench in the small station, Hughes currently in another room, organising some finalising papers for Mustang's signature. They had been looking at each other for the whole time, and now, the battle of wills was so fierce that to give up would mean a huge dash to one's pride.

Edward was making sure that that dash would be Mustang's, not his own. Mustang folded his hands and put his two index fingers to his pursed lips, before pulling his hands away. All the while he did this, he held Edward's stare with that stupid superior look. His hands tapped twice on his knees and Edward had to catch himself before his attention was diverted. The bastard was cheating! "There is something I cannot figure out." The man said, trying to break Edward's concentration, "Why would someone like you, obviously smart and strong willed, and with your whole life ahead of you, condemn yourself by using alchemy and witchcraft?" He shook his head, but held his stare, "no matter how I think about it, it just doesn't make sense to me."

Edward frowned, and knew his gaze turned from glare to slightly regarding, then back to a glare. "Let me tell you a story." He said. Mustang raised his eyebrows at the statement, but didn't look away, instead, indicated his interest with a flick of his hand. "It happened in a small village to the far east. On the very border of this country, in fact.

'There was a woman in that small village, a tall, slender woman with the most beautiful brown hair and eyes that always smiled when they looked at you. She was not married, nor was she engaged but this did not affect her reputation as a loving and kind person, who could give her heart to even the smallest cause. Everyone in her village knew her, most loved her and her quiet, yet determined, ways. She only had one flaw in the eyes of the people, that she had loved an alchemist.

'This woman had two bastard sons to him, which most of the village passed away as him raping her because she was too fair for any other conclusion, too God-loving to break His commandments. The sons took after the father, the first one looking almost like his clone, the second one having a touch of the mother's soft features and gentle eyes. She offered them up to her God at an early age, and brought them up in the Lord's tradition. She loved them with all her heart, and they in turn loved her with all of theirs.

'Now, the boys were as different as siblings could be, the eldest was brilliant but lazy, and would often skip church and Sunday school to find a creek to play in, or a hill to lie on. The younger, was hardworking and honest, even if he didn't have as much intelligence as the elder, he was smart in his own way, kind and gentle and with an underlying ability to preform well in anything he put his mind to. Both bright children, they had to be, to be sired by an alchemist."

Edward paused at this point to see if the man was still listening. Mustang nodded after a moment for him to continue. Without noticing, Edward had looked away from the man, and now he found no reason to keep up the staring contest that they had going. He frowned and after a moment continued speaking. "The elder child was about five when on one day he went with his mother to their weekly confession. His mother was in the confessional booth, he standing just outside it, and trying to listen in while his younger brother regarded him as doing wrong and was scolding him with his eyes from where he sat in the pew. The elder paid no heed, instead, listening in to what his mother was saying. He therefore heard her ask, 'Father, will I go to heaven?'

'The priest, the boy heard to reply, sounded surprised as he said, 'Have you lived an honest and good life, my child? Without lying, without hating and following the ten commandments and all of His will and ways?' There was a tone in his voice that indicated the priest didn't think he needed to ask, as if the answer that yes, the woman would go to heaven was as clear as day.

'The woman, of course, instantly replied, 'Of course, Father! I live each day by His will and His word!' Her conviction as she said it, you must understand, was so great, that the boy was surprised to hear his mother talking such. He actually jumped as if he had been caught pulling the legs off the frogs he found at the pond."

Mustang frowned. "I fail to see what this has to do with anything."

"I haven't finished yet." Snapped Edward angrily. The man across from him fell silent again. "Good." Edward said and continued. "'Then of course you will go to Heaven, child. You have been blessed in His eyes.' The priest replied to the boy's mother and from that point on, the confession played out as normal. No more questions were asked.

'Not even a month later, Mustang, was that woman tied at stake in the centre square of the small village. Her crime? Loving a man who had long since left the village, the alchemist father of her two bastard sons. Her sons were forced to watch as she was taken to the pinnacle of that large pile of timber and as one after another, the men of the village raped her for her sin of lust while the rest of the crowd jeered. Surely, they thought they were being ironic, but were they being anything but hypocrites? When the last man had had his way with the woman, fire was set to the logs.

'The bastard sons were the forced to watch, the younger crying and failing to understand why his mother was dying, The elder being physically restrained as he tried to get to his mother to free her. The man holding the elder crippled his right arm and left leg, to prevent him from even dragging himself up that woodpile to where his mother was.

'The woman on the pyre, however, smiled at her sons for all she was beaten, bleeding and being burnt alive. She looked at the eldest son, and told him words that would stay with him the rest of his life, 'Fear not for me, child, for the priest has said I shall join the angels in heaven. Rejoice, for I will be in paradise soon, waiting for my sons and love to join me when their time comes.' After she was dead, only a blackened corpse remaining on the pyre did the townspeople release their jeers and proclamations that she would burn in hell for her sins."

Edward fell silent and regarded the impact that his tale had had on the man across from him. There was pain on the man's features. "It doesn't answer my question." Mustang finally said, "About why you became an alchemist."

"Revenge." Answered Edward simply. "Against the hypocritical religion that killed my mother."

The man across from him said nothing, but he looked very pale.

* * *

"Alright, the documents have been passed and not Edward Elric is the property of one Lord Mustang." Hughes said after calling the two men into his office. Mustang was still ghostly pale from Edward's attempt at storytelling, and Edward was thoroughly enjoying the man's discomfort, smirking widely and almost boastfully. "However, before I finalise the papers, I'd like a word with Edward." Edward's smirk immediately faded, as both men looked at Mustang. The man with them shrugged and stepped out of the office, much to Edward's dismay.

The young man braced himself.

Hughes turned to look at Edward, his face as fierce as a topical storm. "What. Are. You. Doing?" He demanded, pointing accusingly at Edward, his eyes glittering angrily behind his square-rimmed glasses. "You're not supposed to be anywhere _near_ him, and here you are, telling him things like that!"

"You heard?" Edward asked, not in the least guilty.

"Of course I heard. The walls in here are thinner than a paper screen from the east." Hughes sighed. "You have to be careful Edward. Bradley will find out about your slave transfer. If he finds out you've been telling these stories to Mustang, this time, nothing will save you from the headsman's block. You got lucky last time, Edward. Lucky you had a good sponsor. This time, that won't happen."

Edward grinned. "All the more reason for him to find out." He said. "Bradley won't kill me until I become a real problem, and at the moment I'm anything but. I want Bradley to watch me every step of the way as I destroy the little fuck-puppet he created out of the leader of the resistance."

"Just what are you planning, Edward Elric?" Demanded Hughes, still in the same stormy tones. Edward just smirked at him. "I'm asking you a question." Hughes snapped. "What are you planning, showing up like this, two years after the Flamel society? You haven't done anything since it fell, and we all thought you were dead because of it. Mustang isn't Mustang anymore and you're behaving in a way that Flame wouldn't want."

"Don't talk to me about that asswipe!" Edward screamed. "He's the one that put me where I am! And I've had two years to seethe over that fact, Hughes." He glared at the man, anger inside him threatening to boil over. "Two years of no longer having my automail because I was 'too dangerous' with it. Two years of gathering eggs and shovelling shit, both metaphorical and real. And two years of wondering, scheming and planning just what I was going to do when I got out of that hellhole." Edward frowned heavily. "So don't talk to me about Flame. As far as I'm concerned, Flame can go hang for all I care."

Hughes didn't know what to say for a moment, it was obvious. He paused and finally said, "What happened, Edward, you're too cynical now. You're not who I remember."

"Of course." Edward snapped. "I've lost my freedom. Now it's time for me to win it back.

Hughes sighed sadly and held his hand out to support Edward out of the station. "Edward, as much as I like you, I don't have to tell you where my loyalty ultimately lies. You know that it's not with you, but also, I want you to remember that it's not truly with the government. If you try anything to hurt Roy..."

"Don't worry, Hughes. By the time I actually do anything seriously damaging to him, it will be too late for anyone to stop me. Even you." He looked at the man. "I've figured out that Bradley took his memory, Hughes. I need to know how. I know why."

"Be careful, Ed. Bradley will do worse to you if you get caught." Hughes said.

Edward fought back a bitter laugh. "I won't get caught." They reached Mustang at that point.

The man looked at them and frowned. "Edward, you will join me in my carriage on the way to my estate. You will enlighten me with another one of your tales to pass the time."

Edward smiled ferociously. "As you wish, my lord." He said.

* * *

.

* * *

_A/n: Right. There's something I'm going to say before I get yelled at that will probably take you by surprise._

_I am actually a catholic. Not an orthodox one I'll admit, in fact, I don't agree with much of the teachings beyond "Love one another as you love the lord" and "Treat your neighbour as yourself" but I do respect my religion and I do believe in God._

_What I don't agree with is the way that people who don't share the Christian belief were treated in the middle ages, which is when this story is set. If you look back through the Christian tradition in this period we see a great many travesties, The Salem Witch Hunts, the Knights of Templar, the corruption of the bishops and priests, it wasn't a pretty era for Christianity. _

_Sp I'm just noting here that I am not against the catholic religion as it is now, this is against the way that religion was set up in the middle ages. Which is when the story is set._

_Anyway. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Leave a little review?_


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